


Pick Me Up

by plasticpumpkins



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: Body Horror, Cuddling, Drug Use, Existential Angst, F/M, Gen, Isolation, M/M, Marijuana, Platonic bed sharing, Self-Doubt, glow kink, mention of explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticpumpkins/pseuds/plasticpumpkins
Summary: While Matt Garetty eases his mind, his body begins to glow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore a bit more on Matt's existentialism and relationship with Casey. i hate this lol

Locked safely away in the driver’s seat of his car, Matt Garetty lifted a badly rolled joint up to his lips. The radio was playing lonesome tunes, though it was only loud enough to put him into a sedated state of melancholy and frustration. He was parked in a vacant lot, reclined back and staring with half-lidded eyes at the bright lights of city buildings glaring in the distance. The windows were foggy, due to the rainy condensation of the night and the smoke languidly drifting in the small space. 

This was not the first time Matt had found himself in this mindset and it would definitely not be the last. You see, inside of his chest, there was the disconcerting implication that nothing mattered. He desperately wanted to feel the adrenaline rush of infatuation, but every time he approached Casey Letter, the noisy voice in the back of his head told him it would end badly, that it was useless to connect only to have his heart shattered into pieces. Elmer’s glue doesn’t fix broken hearts. 

He tried not to blame the lugubrious poetry and theories that the internet so gladly supplied, but he knew that this ideology didn’t come from his rampant head. The accusation of nihilism was only important when he was alone, much like this night, but on other days, when he looked the object of his affection in the eyes, he saw nothing but their worlds crumbling. He couldn’t fall in love with Casey because he was too dedicated to death, to the pessimistic idea that anything and everything would collapse. 

Matt Garetty could not fall in love, but he could examine it. In the middle of his monologue, the fire lighting his blunt died out and forced him to scramble to find his often useless lighter. The beginning of his looping high had already begun, he could feel it rising in his chest and overlapping with his thoughts. He found the metallic lighter between the console and the passenger seat, fumbling to flip it open and ignite the flame in the dark with shaky hands. 

When the fire started, orange and soft against the dimness, he held it to the joint dangling out of his mouth and allowed it to catch. He inhaled slowly, filling his lungs with smoke, distracting himself from the nagging in his mind that suggested even this nightly event of ease was useless. He seemed to be two different people. One that needed help and one that refused it. The good half of his brain would take any excuse to disperse the anxiety, the bad half would find loopholes in his methods. 

Matt exhaled shakily, watching the smoke swirl and disappear into absence space. It did not take very long for his mind to become clouded, scrambling both parts of his dysfunctional brain until they were the same. Until they were merely him without their labels. The warmth started in the small of his back, spreading upwards until he was a part of the scenery. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, waiting to become invisible, imaginary, fictional. Anything but what he was. 

As unneeded moments passed, a peculiar feeling drew him from his pot-induced coma. It was in the center of his chest, pulsing like music through floorboards, forcing his reddened eyes to snap open and evaluate the sudden occurrence. The joint he held loosely in his hand dropped from his fingers. 

Matt’s heart was suddenly racing as he looked down to find a bright purple light emitting through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. 

It was steadily spreading down his body, along with the sickening rush of anxiety and misunderstanding. He tried not to tremble as he shrugged his coat off, only to frantically tug the cotton of his shirt over his head, leaving him bare and shivering in the discomfort of his car. 

He pressed his palm to his stomach, where the light was prominently glowing and pulsing in the hollows of his empty belly. It moved languorously like it was content with gently filling him up with its alien luster. It felt like pure, unadulterated heat swarming inside of him and he found that it wasn’t entirely bad. It reminded him of amusement park rides, where his stomach would drop and chills would run down his spine as the rollercoaster cart swooped. Adrenaline felt like bliss then. 

Matt was mesmerized, unable to take his eyes away from the subtle glow washing over him. He felt like one of those white-hot lava lamps in Wiccan shops, swirling and rippling with light and color. He grazed his fingertips along his ribs, noting how dark they looked backlit by the purple haze that manifested underneath his skin. He shivered, his hands were so cold compared to the overheated state of his skin. As his trembling hands traced the indentions of bone, the panic eased and the high returned in full force. 

He supposed that, after levitating things in mid-air and flying, glowing bright purple wasn’t too much of a surprise. Bitterly, the voice in the back of his mind chimed in and reminded him that glowing was possible for him but falling in love was not. If only the high the dealer provided was strong enough to calm him forever. He was sure that if he could hold onto the satiated feeling of comfort, Casey wouldn’t seem so out of reach. She was so close to him in thought. So, he kept her in mind. 

With his buzzing mind, he pictured her blonde hair splayed against the pillows of his bed. He thought of the small curves of her body, the way her thighs touched and how they parted. He shook that one away, suddenly uncomfortable with the remembrance of that night they connected and then departed different people. He found that he should have been more interested in her clothes scattered on his floor, but he really cared about the reaction he could elicit from her. The world only felt real then. 

Matt could only feel alive when the world was quiet enough, much like now with the stars inside of chest blooming in purple explosions of light and fluidity. The radio’s sullen tune began to skip, reminding him of all the CDs he had scratched and permanently ruined. He moved forward to decrease the volume until the only sounds around him were his own unsteady breathing and the trains rattling down the tracks miles away. 

He felt surreal, like a never ending dream in a writer’s brain.The purple haze spread throughout his body, from his ankles to the tips of his ears. It was a heavenly feeling, the pulsation of amenity through him was like waves meeting the shore. He wanted to feel this way forever, sedated softly and alone.  
Suddenly, Casey Letter felt like an urgency. He needed her right then, despite being miles away and unable to think straight. 

He just wanted to hold her, he wanted that crumbling feel of love, even if it didn’t last. If he could kiss her once and press it into his memories like flowers into a scrapbook, he’d be happy forever. He was in love without realizing it. He was glowing and painfully in need of her touch. 

Matt sat up straight in his seat, scrambling to pull his shirt back over his head, ineffectively hiding the unoppressive glow inside of him. He shrugged his jacket over his shoulders, quickly buttoning it up in an attempt to hide the light altogether. It still found a way out, peeking from beneath his sleeves and running up his neck, as if it were afraid of the dark. He couldn’t see Casey in this state, but he wanted to. He wanted to see if the comfort within him could be spread through hasty kisses. He doubted it. 

He was high and apparently drunk on the powers that manifested in color, but he turned the keys in the ignition anyway. When his car came to life, thrumming steadily beneath him, he shifted it into drive and took off, leaving the empty parking lot behind, along with his sense of worthlessness. He had to tell Andrew and Steve; they were the only two people who could save him from this, or at the very least understand him. He wondered if they were going through this themselves or if he was alone. 

One of his hands left the steering wheel to turn the volume on the radio up again. Matt was suddenly glad he had tinted windows so that nobody he passed on the street would notice that he had an unknown light emitting from inside of his body. Steve Montgomery’s house was only a few blocks away, but it seemed like it would take a century to get there. It was on pure instinct that he knew Andrew Detmer had to be there as well. Or perhaps it was the telekinetic connection between them. 

The glow within him never faltered. In fact, the closer he got to his best friends, the darker the light became. When he pulled into the driveway of Steve’s house, all the lights inside were off and his parents seemed to be away. The only other car in the yard was Steve’s black jeep, which was parked strategically underneath the carport. Matt yanked the keys out of the ignition, hurriedly moving out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He stumbled across the front yard. 

When he reached the front door and knocked rapidly, there was no response. Five minutes passed. Nothing. So, instead, he shakily pulled himself off the ground, watching as his feet left the tarnished flooring of Steve’s porch. He flew around the house until he was met with the window of his friend, which was ...open? He swallowed back the confusion before pushing the curtains aside and slipping inside the room himself. He looked down to find soggy footprints on the cashmere carpet. 

Steve’s bedroom was unusually messy. There were wet clothes and shoes discarded everywhere. The entire room was dark and incredibly quiet. He was forced to focus on the sound of his own shaky breathing as he approached the center of the room, looking for Steve himself. Matt guessed that he was wrong about his cousin being here because he wasn’t anywhere to be found. There was no trace. 

Matt looked like a walking night light in the pitch black of the room, only able to see a few inches in front of him and the items in close proximity. He found Steve in bed, huddled under thick blankets, apparently asleep. He felt like a creep now, standing in the bedroom of a sleeping person. But his problem, that being his glowing chest, was an emergency. Obviously. 

‘’Steve…’’ Matt whispered, placing a jittery hand on his shoulder. The unconscious boy had his back turned, keeping Matt from seeing his face and judging his reactions. He seemed to be unresponsive. So, he was shaken harder by a purple tinted hand. Nothing happened. Matt tugged the blankets back, hoping to expose the other boy to the winter air and effectively draw him out of his hibernation. 

Only, when Matt did so, he found an unexpected scene. Andrew Detmer was tucked safely into Steve’s arms, which were wrapped tightly around him. They were pressed flush against each other, both in nothing but boxers. But that wasn’t the most surprising thing about the scene. The thing that shocked Matt the most was the red and blue glow radiating off of them. Where their bodies touched, it blended into purple; much like the color Matt himself emitted. Relief spread through him immediately. 

Steve seemed to sense the cold air, seeing as he instinctively pulled Andrew closer to him. Matt grinned lazily at the sight, it looked like he was right about his cousin’s whereabouts. He turned back towards the window, making calculated, quiet steps to keep from waking them up. He shut and locked it before toeing his shoes off and finding the bed again. 

There was barely enough space for him with Andrew and Steve asleep in the dead middle, but Matt shoved himself in anyways, pressed close to Steve to keep from falling off the bed. He tugged the blanket back over them all, unable to question why they were all full of light or why Andrew and Steve were practically naked and hugged so close together. 

Matt realized before he closed his eyes, that everything was going to be alright. If Andrew could make Steve love him, then Matt sure as hell could get Casey to love him. The only downfall was that ‘Drew had puppy dog eyes that worked like a charm and Matt had an everlasting smell of weed attached to his clothes. Either way, he’d call Casey in the morning… After asking Steve why he kept trying to bang his cousin. Oh, and he probably needed to ask about the glow sticks that were their bodies. 

He fell asleep, letting the high drift off with him.


End file.
